Dorm Room 213
by coeurgryffondor
Summary: Entering the space Emil immediately notices Christen's bags laying in the middle of the main room, yet the door to the right is still locked. Voices drift out from the room to the left, his brother and his brother's boyfriend's room. / Nordic 5, SuNor, one sided SuFin. AU, nations as humans.


Author's note: Nordic 5, SuNor, one sided SuFin. AU, nations as humans. This is set in one of those magic high school-college combo boarding schools that all fandoms must have fanfiction of to have truly arrived. I just kind of wanted to write half-naked Lukas. My favorite part is Timo's; what's yours?

* * *

**Dorm Room 213**

**Christen**

When he gets back the rooms smell of a woman but not of men. "Lukas," he calls out, knowing the kid's got to be here somewhere. His response is a shorts-only, paint-covered Norwegian in the doorway to his left. "Place smells of chick, where's Berwald?" Rolling his eyes Lukas goes back into the room, Christen following.

"He's in town," the art student replies lazily over his shoulder, "Timo had to pick some things up so he said he'd take him and get some errands done. Timo's got a study group with Emil after that so he should be back soon enough."

As Lukas drones on Christen once more takes in the room, looking for any changes since he's last been here: it's the slightly smaller room, the one to the left of the main room, but it's only got two beds in it instead of three, both of which have been pushed together in the back corner to make a full-sized bed. The sheets are askew, clothes at the foot of the bed trailing across the floor to the dressers. Two large desks sit on the other long wall: one is meticulous in its arrangement of items, technology, papers; the other functions as a bookshelf and part-time table for paint. Lukas has resumed his work on the easel, tarp beneath him.

"I need to use his computer," Christen says, sitting in Berwald's seat and watching Lukas work. To the top of the easel is pinned a picture of the Norwegian's mother in college to reference for the woman in the painting. "Norse?" the Dane asks and Lukas nods without looking back.

"For her birthday, you know how she loves Vikings. Do you want me to log you in?" Lukas asks. Because though the iMac is Berwald's, as is the MacBook Pro and iPad, each man has an account on it.

"Nah, I need his side." Christen takes the Ikea-built chair for a swirl, spinning in place and whacking his foot against something solid.

"Lukas-17-May," the Norwegian says, going off to wash a brush. The Dane can only roll his eyes.

"Of course that's his password, fucking Swede."

* * *

**Berwald**

He opens the outer door, Timo bursting in past him to unlock the door to the larger bedroom before throwing bags down on the floor, grabbing his backpack, then locking the door again and rushing out. "Thanks Be!" Timo's voice trails behind him. Berwald shakes his head; he never would fully understand that one.

Christen's bags are laying in the middle of the main room as Berwald puts away the few cold things he'd purchased, pushing past the door on his left to enter his room, dropping his things at the end of the bed. The Dane in question is on his computer, clearly logged in to his side, but seems to be doing actual work and Lukas had to have logged him in, so the Swede thinks little of it.

Besides, Lukas himself is currently laying on his stomach on the bed in nothing but shorts; Berwald knows for a fact the Norwegian is wearing nothing beneath that article of clothing, his ass sticking up in the air a little. So he pounces, smacking the back of Christen's head and pulling off his shirt before hopping onto the pushed-together beds, immediately straddling Lukas's hips to grind down into his ass. Berwald leans forward, pressing his chest into his boyfriend's back, rocking his hips back and forth. Teeth find where Lukas's neck meets his shoulder, biting teasingly into the skin.

Dear God it feels good, the man beneath him pushing back.

"Stop it you," the Norwegian complains and they roll to the side, legs tangling together, Berwald still lapping at where he'd made his latest hickey. With his free arm and a check to make sure Christen is heavily invested in what he's doing, the Swede snakes a hand down the front of Lukas's short to stroke him a few times. He stops when he gets an elbow to the face, palming his hand back up the Norwegian chest to hold his boyfriend tight.

"Love you," he whispers into his ear, kissing at where cheek meets jaw. Lukas sighs, relaxing against him, and they lay like that. "Painting's coming along nice," Berwald murmurs; the Norwegian's always been his favorite artist.

"Thanks." The Swede's always been his favorite muse.

* * *

**Emil**

Entering the space Emil immediately notices Christen's bags laying in the middle of the main room, yet the door to the right is still locked. Voices drift out from the room to the left, his brother and his brother's boyfriend's room.

And of course Lukas is half naked, his shorts doing a shit job covering up his lower torso as he's held in that freaking Swede's arms, their bodies all tangled up together. Emil hates to see those two like that, though he hates more to admit it's because he's jealous of how easily they can lay together, how perfect they are together. Emil doesn't have anyone he can be that free with.

Christen is sitting in Berwald's chair, speaking with them when he enters. All eyes fall to Emil who asks, "Mom?" tilting his head towards the new painting.

"And her soft spot for Vikings," Lukas adds in his flat voice, Berwald sitting up a little.

"Is Timo with you?" the Swede asks and a happy Finn comes bounding in from the other room in answer to the question. "Hey, I think our things got mixed up at the store." As he speaks he sits up fully, Lukas rolling onto his stomach as Berwald (shirtless, because of course he's shirtless too) climbs off their beds pushed together. Emil hates that bed because he knows they have sex on it. He bets it's mind-blowingly good sex too, and that just makes it worst. "My bag just had chocolate milk and liquorice." The Icelander follows Berwald out of the room to try and stop the images flooding his mind of the Swede fucking his brother.

"Why'd you buy chocolate milk?" Emil asks as the tallest one follows the shortest one across the main space and into the third room. Two beds are stacked against the wall, Timo's the top bunk and Emil's the bottom; the third one sits under the window, Christen's. With the dressers there was no room for desks so those had been pushed out into the main room since Christen hadn't wanted it for his room anymore after hearing Berwald and Lukas doing it all night the first week of term. In the end, the arrangement of furniture is better like this, Emil thinks, neutral territory in the middle of the three-room dorm suite.

"For your damn needy brother," Berwald complains, taking the bags Timo hands him to look through for his things. At one bag the Finn blushes and immediately Emil cringes, turning around and going back into the main room because he knows that means the Swede had bought condoms. For the mind blowing sex, of course; he'd need to scrub his mind clean later with… something.

"You got me my chocolate milk?" Lukas calls, emerging from his room. Opening the fridge his face lights up in smug victory as Berwald responds,

"I wasn't sure if you wanted a big thing or the six-pack, so I got both."

"Score!" the Norwegian breathes and Emil shakes his head, going to open the window above his desk to get some air before he starts in on his homework.

* * *

**Timo**

It's his turn to help Berwald make dinner down the hall, the full kitchen smelling delicious as the Swede works. Timo likes helping Berwald make dinner.

"Chop this," and a cutting board, knife, and some vegetables are slid his way. The Finn does as he's told happily, silently listening to Berwald sing songs that Timo knows Mrs. Oxenstierna sings when she cooks too. They're always old songs, ones of longing and of lost and of love. They make Timo blush, his heart racing as he hears the passion in Berwald's voice that so often is directed solely towards Lukas. Timo likes helping Berwald make dinner to hear those words, to steal them away is if they were his and his alone.

Because maybe in another world they could be together, Berwald having returned to the stove to stir something. Maybe in another time Timo would have been the one Berwald was falling over, the stern looking Swede with his secret soft, romantic side. Timo would be the one waking up to breakfast and coffee, arriving in class to find gifts on his desk. Timo would be the one getting the kisses and the touches and curse his face for always being so quick to flush.

"You ok?" the Swede asks half teasingly, half concerned, from beside him.

"Fine," Timo answers too quickly, "just fine, don't worry about it Be." Finished chopping the vegetables he pushes everything to Berwald who adds the food to his pan. "Can I ask you something?"

"Shoot kiddo," the reply comes, Berwald giving one of his rare smiles that even Lukas has to fight to get out of him but that Timo gets so easily. Because he makes Berwald feel at ease, he's the one who always gets a big hug for dropping everything to listen to Berwald present on his latest paper or go to a lecture with him. He's the one that Berwald lets play with the radio in his car, unlike Lukas or Christen who start pressing buttons without his permission. Timo is special, Berwald had told him that. Maybe not the way Lukas was, but he was still special to Berwald. Irreplaceable, Berwald had told him; he didn't know what he'd ever do without the Finn by his side.

After several tries the words finally come. "What do you love about Lukas?"

Berwald pauses in his movements for just a moment, taking in the Finn with sad but loving eyes before finishing up what he was doing. The older Nords are three years older than him but since his first day at school Berwald has always stuck by Timo's side, guiding him, protecting him. They go out for ice-cream and swap stories they won't tell anyone else and talk about their fears and their wants and everything and nothing all at once.

Wasn't that love? Wasn't that what love was?

"I don't know," Berwald laughs because talking about Lukas tends to make him happy. "I just do. Do I need a reason?" he jokes.

"No," Timo grins despite the pain in his heart, because he likes to see Berwald happy. "No, I was just curious. So, what shall I help with next?"

* * *

**Lukas**

Dinner is taken in the main room as usual, television showing the news. When that ends and hockey comes on Lukas makes his escape, hand on Emil's head as he leaves to say goodnight. Part of him wonders what he'd done if his baby brother hadn't gotten into the same school as him; he's grateful he'll never have to know, though neither him nor Emil would ever admit to being so close.

In the dark room Lukas strips, taking in once more the painting of his mother with her light hair and happy face, the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Lukas loves his mother and it always breaks his heart when he thinks that maybe, just maybe, he was a failure of a son. Emil had always met her expectations, it was just who he was, but Lukas? Lukas was suppose to give her grandchildren, marry a nice Norwegian girl and have some stable, boring job. Instead he's an art major with a Swedish boyfriend and no desire to have kids.

He throws a tarp over the canvas to cover it, climbing into bed and settling in for the wait. Five, maybe ten minutes later, Berwald enters, stripping just as silently before joining him on top of the sheets because it's too hot to bother laying beneath them, especially when there's a hockey game on and no one to hear them. Not that Lukas cared, but it was annoying listening to Christen and Emil complain about hearing them have sex, Timo blushing while Berwald stupidly missed how the Finn basically worshipped the ground he walked on.

"Do you ever wonder?" Lukas starts and Berwald props himself up on an arm to better look at his face, their naked bodies barely touching.

"About what?" and one of those mischievous Swedish hands starts running up and down his chest.

"I don't know," the Norwegian admits. "If this is it? If in all the possible outcomes I was always going to be an art student from Oslo with a boyfriend from Stockholm that studies political science? With divorced parents, my mother off in Iceland with my half-brother? And a roommate we never could shake despite the fact that we so rarely want to spend time with his Danish ass?"

"You'd miss him," Berwald chides, "if Christen wasn't here. And Timo, though you'll never admit it. And you'd not be the same person you are without Emil, because you helped raise him Lukas, I know you did." A hand strokes his cheek, Lukas turning his face to press into it. "What I do know though, without a doubt, is that I will always, always love you, no matter where we go or who we become."

And like that their love fills the room, Lukas shifting to straddle Berwald, their lips connecting and hands setting off on paths like trains from the station. For all he hates it here (and he does), Lukas really does love their dorm, a nice little suite with room number 213.


End file.
